


Rules of Engagement

by cameronclaire



Series: The Radiant Garden Gazette [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Characters 18+, Engagement, Established Relationship, Guilt, M/M, Recovery, Romantic Fluff, building a life together, post-kh3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 13:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cameronclaire/pseuds/cameronclaire
Summary: After nearly losing each other fighting other people's battles, Roxas and Axel were ready to settle down and take a break from adventuring for a while. New Radiant Garden isn't your stereotypical 'normal' life—what with all the recompleted Nobodies running amok and most of the city still under construction by the Restoration Committee—but it's close enough. They're happy. At least, Axel thinks they're happy. But Roxas' unusual reaction to the recent engagement of two of their neighbors has Axel second guessing where their relationship is going, and Roxas has some questions of his own.
Relationships: Aeleus/Dilan (Kingdom Hearts), Axel/Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), Isa/Xemnas (Kingdom Hearts), Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: The Radiant Garden Gazette [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875724
Comments: 15
Kudos: 20





	1. Fake It 'Til You Make It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the title. I may change it again. I am an indecisive human being.

The road is still rough along the side streets of Radiant Garden, the concrete pathways lined with cracks and crevices deep-set as Yen Sid’s frown lines and rough with rubble and particularly stubborn weeds that spring up against all odds—dandelions, mostly. The Restoration Committee has higher priorities. So, Roxas has become something of an expert at curving his skateboard around the worst of it, coaxing his wheels out of divots and dips without stopping his progress entirely. 

He’s cleared some of the alleyways around Axel’s forge of debris himself, and now glides from the main thoroughfare onto one such side street to avoid running into anyone else and making himself any later than he already is. 

_Although,_ he thinks, as he glances up to the suns, climbing higher toward midday, and readjusts the bags beneath his arm, _at this rate another half hour won’t make a huge difference._

Roxas inhales a mouthful of charcoal and jumps his winged board over the most jagged pothole in the alley, his wheels rattling their objections as he sticks the landing and slows. The forge’s back door, which they all keep meaning to replace, is a hastily hammered together collection of boards, painted black with fire-retardant and sprayed with a jagged white 813 by whoever does that sort of thing. 

_Probably Demy,_ Roxas supposes, _trying to mark the spot for his wildly erratic delivery route._

Like many of the recompleted Organization members who had been reunited with their own bodies, (or else given the Radiant Garden scientists quite a shock when they had awoken in the replicas’ chamber), Demy had chosen to take advantage of Leon’s offer to help repopulate and rehabilitate the world many of them had been born in. In doing so, the members had to prove themselves a benefit to society through hard work, education, and community service. 

Jiminy Cricket offered them each regular therapy sessions, and they were required to pass a psychiatric evaluation before permanently moving to any other worlds. So far, rumor had it, only Isa had managed, but he had chosen to stay. They were each assigned “Sponsors of Light” to aid them in their progress. 

Xigbar likened the entire situation to house arrest on more than one occasion, but the former Org members mainly kept their grumbling to themselves. There were certainly worse arrangements to be had than being allowed to carry out their new lives in exile on their former home world. They’d all died enough times to know that. 

They were held accountable by both the Restoration Committee Leaders and the new Council of Keyblade Masters, who, with the assistance of keyblade armor, were able to make their rounds through the worlds faster than Sora’s Gummi Ship ever had and keep the peace. Roxas, Axel, and Xion had been asked to join them on their peace-keeping journeys, and, maybe, probably, eventually, they would. But, after being forced to exchange so much of their youth so far for fighting Heartless 24/7, they had decided to live as close to normal lives as they were able, for the time being, (and the Keyblade Masters had likely breathed a private sigh of relief, especially since Axel’s exact initial response had been ‘Fuck that’). 

Roxas hops off his skateboard, pops his board up into his waiting hand, and sets it against the aged brick wall beside another rebellious pack of wispy white dandelions that he and Axel haven’t found it in their hearts to uproot. 

Roxas doesn’t—hasn’t ever—knocked on the door to Axel’s forge, and he doesn’t today. Still, he can’t stop himself from thinking of it as Axel’s, even though Axel considers it _theirs_ —even though Roxas has spent many long, sweaty days, helping Leon and his crew construct the thing and harnessing his fire magic to learn the basics of the trade at his boyfriend’s side. 

At the end of the day, it’s Axel’s peace time passion project, something besides finishing up his education and keyblade training, something that’s entirely his own. So, at Roxas’ insistence, it’s Axel’s name on the sign out front, and the deed, and the contracts with the Restoration Committee.

And he’d had to fight for it. 

Most of the former members of the Organization weren’t permitted to take up quite such dangerous lines of work. Isa, for example, had been in charge of coordinating gardening, landscaping, and agriculture with Laurium for several months before The Council of Keyblade Masters (Aqua, Terra, and Riku) permitted him to take up a management position at Leon’s side, allocating human resources for the Restoration Committee. 

Similarly, Xemnas’ venture into penning New Radiant Garden’s first newspaper were heavily criticized, and his articles and e-newsletters regularly vetted for ‘Dark Propaganda,’ so that the first twenty editions were nothing more than tremendously, intrusively accurate gossip rags, and, when that didn’t fly, painstakingly, comically accurate accounts of the town’s most mundane events, including an in depth feature report on Leon’s favorite sandwich toppings, complete with quotes and multiple eye witness accounts. 

It took half a year (and some nudging from Isa) before Xemnas was allowed to print anything remotely political or consequential, though once he began, he quickly proved himself just as capable of factual, unbiased journalism as he had been at penning a wickedly witty exposé on Xigbar’s brief but passionate on-and-off-again romantic trysts. (This was, of course, before Xigbar got himself tossed in the castle dungeon for allegedly attempting to portal his Sponsor of Light off a cliff. Although his sentence is up for appeal, last Roxas heard, because Xigbar claims he thought ducks could fly.) 

Axel’s fortunate that he didn’t have to spend a year proving himself (and has been told so—repeatedly.) 

The town needed a forge, and Axel was uniquely qualified for the position. (And the Council had wanted him out of their hair. He had proved quite persistent.) So, Axel had gotten what he wanted. Seventeen petition speeches later. 

Isa warned them it was a lot to take on in addition to classes, keeping up with their keyblade training, and community service, but Axel enjoyed using his fire for something constructive and Roxas saw the peace it brought him, so they made it work. 

“Yo, Axel! ‘M back!” Roxas calls, pushing his way inside with the ridge of his hip and scuffing his sneakers against the mat to remove the excess construction dirt. “I know I said I was gonna be, like, ten minutes tops, but, I mighta gotten distracted…” 

“In here, Roxas…” Axel answers from inside the shop, above the clang of metal on metal and hiss of sparks. “Come in here where I can see you.” 

Roxas passes through the back hallways, neatly lined with the stray supplies and freshly forged weapons and tools, in styles and cuts inspired by a variety of worlds, and enters the central workshop. Large windows allow breaths of fresh air and cast white light that’s hard to look at and doesn’t do as good a job at illuminating the large open space as the orange and yellow blazes of the large central fire burning at the heart of the forge beneath its stone chimney. 

Everything is cast in flickering shades of flame and shadow: the mounted anvil, racks of tools, barrels of water and sand, carts bearing hunks of metal needing repurposed and the neatly arranged shelves toward the entrance, mounting wares to be sold. Even Axel in his tight, light fabric britches, tunic, and heavy leather apron is cast in gold, white, and crimson as he works, stretching gleaming white molten metal between his bare fingertips with the ease of a sculptor shaping clay. 

“Well, hey, sexy.” Axel grins, head cocking to get a better view of Roxas, as carelessly attractive as ever, his hair windswept and his cheeks and ears slightly flushed from his skateboarding, or maybe just the rising temperature of the shop.

Roxas’ smile broadens in spite of himself. “Hey…” 

“That errand took seven hundred times longer than anticipated.” Axel shapes the hot metal between his fingers, and it looks sticky and elastic, like dough. He flicks his wrist, causing flames to engulf all of it once more, and begins to swirl it into an elaborate spiral before balling it up again. 

“Sorry, Axel.” Roxas winces, chagrinned. “First, I had to wait for Leon to get out of a meeting, so I could give him the supplies and explain what was what. Then we delivered them, and _then_ he wanted me to lend him a hand with a quick project, only it wasn’t actually a _quick_ project, in reality. 

“Then I _was_ on my way back here, swear to the gods, but I stopped into Aerith’s house for just a minute to say hello to Xion, and she wanted me to taste-test her cupcakes, and she was so excited, I couldn’t say no, and _then,_ on my way out, I ran into Xemnas, and you know how much Xemnas likes to _talk,_ and I just kinda lost track of time…” Roxas scuffs his foot sheepishly, the arm that’s not laden with bags stretching behind his head, ringed fingers rubbing at the back of his neck, a habit of Axel’s he’s picked up for himself. “Again.”

Axel chuckles, a sultry purr that Roxas only ever hears him use when there’s no one else around, deeper and less controlled than his usual mocking, lilting laugh. “It’s okay, Roxas, I don’t need the whole mission report. I wasn’t really expecting anything less after the last five times.” He turns toward the chimney so the piece he’s working on won’t drip molten steel to the floor, and flicks a hand carelessly over his shoulder, spraying sparks, as he teases, “I know you don’t know how to say no to people.” 

In actuality, Axel knows no force in the universe could make the powerful keyblade wielder do anything he didn’t _want_ to do—not any more. _But, the guy is far too helpful for his own good._

“Well,” one of Roxas’ brows rises, and his smile tilts, as he draws closer and deadpans, “I was raised by a cult.”  
  
Axel snorts, catching Roxas’ eye before turning toward the anvil, shifting the shape of the steel in his hand into something more distinctly sword-shaped, as he steps and then setting it down, dismissing the fire engulfing his hands. “Is _that_ why I’m doing all these orders for Leon?” Axel hefts a large hammer from the ground and props it against his shoulder, before turning to glance at Roxas again. “And here I thought I was just a good guy.”

Axel brings the hammer down on the sword with a harsh clang that sends up sparks that remind Roxas of the fireflies the pair of them chased the time they tried camping on the edge of town. 

“You _are_ a good guy,” Roxas assures him firmly, stepping up to the other side of the anvil to watch Axel’s progress and to see his face, glowing golden bronze in the light. A black smudge of ash on one of his cheeks reminds Roxas of the tattoos he used to wear. Roxas feels an unexpected pang, something to the left of nostalgia. 

Axel brings the hammer down hard again with a grunt and then wastes a couple precious seconds to grin back. “I love it when you lie to me.”

 _“Axel…”_ Roxas’ tone grows exasperated, his smile thinner, more wry. He hopes Axel doesn’t mean that, but admires his blatant refusal to stay in line with whatever overstepping behaviors the powers that be demand of him in the name of what’s “right.”

 _“Roxas…”_ Axel mimics his tone, and then huffs and keeps swinging. It’s a conversation they’ve had a hundred times before in one form of another. 

Another few blows pass in silence broken only by the song of metal and hiss of smoke and embers, and then Axel lifts the sword-to-be by the hilt, reshaping the metal with the heat of his palm as he does, smoothing out the jutting upper ridges of the hand guards under his thumb while inspecting his handiwork. 

Roxas follows his movements in quiet admiration. Axel’s swift motions have a practiced ease and fluidity not unlike the way he fights, slicing through Heartless with his chakram… 

Axel frowns a bit at a flaw Roxas’ eyes can’t detect, and jerking his head to indicate Roxas step back, dunks the sword into a barrel of cold water and then raises it, steaming and silver, into the air with a single sizzling swipe. 

Roxas hums in admiration as Axel sets the weapon down to cool atop the anvil with a mild sigh, the steam around his hands evaporating quickly to reveal his face, tired but unflushed. “I’ll fix it later. Think it’s time for a breather.” 

Roxas nods, and Axel sets his tools to rights and steps up to join him. Without discussion, they seat themselves on a wrought iron bench below one of the wide, open bell-shaped windows at the front of the shop. From there they can feel the breeze breathe against their flushed faces and listen to the birds calling out to each other in the park a few blocks down. 

Once they’ve settled themselves, their thighs pressed against each other, ankles linking, Roxas licks his thumb and reaches out to rub at the smudge of ash on Axel’s cheek. “You _are_ doing a good job,” Roxas reiterates. “You know that, right? Like, fucking…” his words fade off, vulnerable and fragile in their quietness, “incredible.”

“ _Roxas…_ ” Axel catches Roxas’ hand in his and closes his eyes above the gentle brush of Roxas’ calloused thumb. With his hand wrapped in Axel’s, Roxas can feel the racing of Axel’s pulse and the sticky heat and ash coating his skin. Axel inhales deeply, trying to relax and smiles, lazy, superficial. “Roxas, Roxas, Roxas… _You’re_ the good guy. I’m just along for the ride.” 

Axel lowers their hands into his lap, though Roxas hasn’t quite fixed the smudge on his cheek so much as streaked it into the teardrop shape it had reminded him of in the first place. Axel wraps both of his hands around Roxas’ and pats it in a way that feels both condescending and sweet. 

Roxas laughs, a short skeptical bark. “You’re the one _always_ bragging about being made a Guardian of Light.” 

Axel exhales through his nose, somewhere between amused and frustrated. Roxas feels his pulse start to simmer down.

“Yeah, well, you weren’t there.” Axel half smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, though they seem to glow, Heartless-like, in the dark space. He jabs Roxas in the arm with his elbow to lighten the gravity of the accusation. “The standards were fairly low.” 

Roxas huffs and is about to elbow him back, when Axel leans in and rests his cheek in Roxas’ hair, a gesture which makes Roxas’ insides so gooey he can’t think of a response right away, except to curl his hand tighter into Axel’s. 

“I was selfish. I just wanted to get you back,” Axel continues. “You, and Isa, and the others… That’s all I thought of while I was training. You, especially. I mean, they’d told me you were as good as…”

The feel of Axel’s entire body shivering makes Roxas’ spine go rigid, especially in the pervasive heat of the smoky room with its still merrily burning hearth. 

“But I didn’t, couldn’t, believe them,” his voice cracks, fingers tracing the bones of Roxas’. “Not for a second. I mean,” his voice starts to get shallow, so he pushes for playful and misses the mark, “what kind of gods would bring back me and not you, right?” His laughter reminds Roxas of glass breaking.

“Hey,” Roxas’ words take on an edge, flat and blunt, “don’t. Don’t do that. We saved the fucking worlds, you and me,” he reminds him. He’s had to remind himself on more than one occasion since, when the other Keyblade wielders had lost patience with him, and when he had lost patience with himself. 

Axel shakes his head slightly, further mussing Roxas’ soft hair, still warm from the noon rays of the Radiant Garden suns. “Honestly, after I saved you, the rest of the worlds didn’t matter so much.”

Roxas wishes he could meet Axel’s eyes, but doesn’t want to jolt him and interrupt the soft, warm, exhales ruffling his hair. “But you did it anyway,” Roxas insists, raising their folded hands until he can press his lips against Axel’s knuckles.  
  
“Well, yeah,” Axel scoffs at himself, his bravado and hypocrisy and desperation, “but…” He trails off, distracted as Roxas’ lips dampen his skin, and then Roxas lowers their hands again, as if Roxas has finally started to forget such a casually intimate gesture could have gotten them killed once upon a time. 

“Why?” Roxas coaxes.

Axel scoffs again, thinking of everything that had been riding on those moments in the Keyblade Graveyard. He remembers the blinding white glow of Kingdom Hearts overhead burning his eyes even when he shut them—the electric pull of its gravity, threatening to encompass every place he had ever known and every place he and Roxas could have, like the Darkness that had swallowed his childhood home whole, alive, and squirming. 

“Whaddya mean, _why?_ ” Axel sputters, voice growing louder with indignance. “There wasn’t a _why.”_ He laughs at the absurdity of it, shaking his head again, sounding more than a little manic. “I only did it ‘cause I was _there_ and it was the right thing, the _only_ thing to… Oh.” 

Axel lifts his head from Roxas’ hair, and Roxas twists his neck to meet widened green eyes. 

_“Oh,”_ Axel repeats more softly, as Roxas’ lips curl into a satisfied grin. 

“The right thing to do. Huh.” Axel reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “Faked it ‘til I made it, I guess.” 

Roxas rolls his eyes, but his tight-lipped grin splits open into a real smile. “Idiot.” He reaches up to cup Axel’s cheek in his palm. “I am so fucking hopelessly in love with you.”

“Yeah,” Axel mumbles and bites his lip, eyes darting to the side in embarrassment, and then back to Roxas’ because he can’t help himself. “I know. Sucks to be you.” 

The pair lean in for a kiss, but Roxas falters and pulls back, arm caught on the three bags weighing it down. 

“Oh!” His eyes widen, glancing down and then back up. “I forgot. I brought you something to apologize for being gone so long.” 

Axel’s eyes narrow, lips pursing skeptically, his fingertips tracing Roxas’ jaw. “Is it a kiss?”

Roxas shrugs the handles of a paper bag from his forearm and lifts the still warm parcel onto his lap. “Ta-da.”

“Ah, Roxas.” Axel’s nose crinkles, as he leans back, and his free hand reaches to unfold the paper bag. “You didn’t need to go to any trouble...”

“It’s freshly baked, flaky, crescent-wrapped jalapeño poppers from Lar—Elrena’s tavern.” 

Axel peers into the bag to see the savory pastries and inhales a whiff of the buttery, spicy morsels, which sets his mouth watering. 

“You brought me pub food? See? I knew you cared,” Axel teases, his thumb stretching to the edge of Roxas’ thin smile, and giving it a tug up that makes Roxas cackle and glare, his golden brows dipping down below the bangs he gets when his hair starts to fall flat. Axel’s hand curls around the bag, folding it closed again with a crinkling sound. “Apology accepted. But I also want...” His free hand rises to catch the neck of Roxas’ tee and draw him closer, until his nose near brushes Roxas’ again. 

Roxas hums, their lips a breath apart. He can’t hold up the glare, smiles again, a softer thing, his heart beating a slow anthem against Axel’s palm on his chest. “Guess I can do that.” He tilts his head. His pale, unwavering blue eyes burn when they’re so close, like matchsticks held to Axel’s bare skin, but he doesn’t mind. “Forgive me?” Roxas asks on a breath.

“Nothing to forgive,” Axel dismisses, and then their lips slip together. All tension and fear and stress and insecurity evaporates as their hearts beat against each other. Roxas tastes like frosting and smells like spring, wind and petals, and when Axel’s tongue wraps his, it burns like salt and smoke. Axel lifts Roxas into his lap, their mouths moving together and their hands snagging at fabric, tugging each other closer, harder, holding tight, muscle sliding against muscle. Their desperation makes it as impossibly clear as ever that they haven’t forgotten for a moment what separation tastes like, the way it rent hollow, echoing chambers in their chests. But pressed together, kissing, they feel like they are home.


	2. Smushing Face

A bell chimes beside them as the front door creaks open, dragging Axel and Roxas’ clouded minds back to a different feverish kiss at the top of a clock tower. For a moment they can feel the deafening clanging of a much larger bell vibrating through them, shaking their strong bodies like leaves in a rainstorm. 

They slowly separate at the thump of heavy footsteps a few feet away and the neutral, slightly weary grunt that follows as Aeleus catches sight of them lip-locked. Aeleus does an about face and clomps away, toward the designated shelf where Axel and Roxas set aside materials made for the scientists and guards of the Radiant Garden castle.

Roxas carefully shifts himself into a more socially appropriate position on Axel’s lap, and after a minute watching Aeleus loading items into his arms to heft out to his cart parked out front, Roxas pipes up, “Do you need help with those, man?”

Aeleus glances back to them warily, his lip lifting slightly upward at the more tender sight of Axel gently kissing the top of Roxas’ head as Roxas tangles their fingers together in an unnecessarily intricate knot. 

“Not just yet, Master Roxas,” Aeleus rumbles in his deep bass, brushing his gloves together to release ashy residue from the crate he’s just shifted. “Go about your business. I’ll let you know.” 

_“Go about your_ business,” Axel echoes, as Aeleus returns to his. He turns his own attention back to Roxas, and chuckles, shaking his head. “Aeleus cracks me up.” 

Roxas blinks, miffed. “I don’t think he was trying to be funny…” 

“You haven’t known him as long as I have,” Axel argues airily. He shrugs when Roxas looks unconvinced and reaches for the bag of jalapeño poppers as Roxas sweeps it away, amusement and exasperation narrowing his eyes. 

“Dude, your hands are filthy.”

“Ordinarily, I’d take that as a compliment,” Axel replies and offers an insinuating smirk which sinks into a pout, “but I’m starving.”  
  
Roxas snorts, but continues to hold the bag out of reach, as if this could actually stop Axel, who has nearly twice his wingspan. 

“Hm.” Axel contemplates his palms, blackened with ash and metal, until he catches hold of a better idea. “Well, then, Roxas, I guess you’re just going to have to feed me or get up.” He pats Roxas’ thigh, all deceptively heavy, compact muscle, and Roxas groans in reply, clearly unwilling to move after his long morning skateboarding through half the kingdom running errands. 

“Mine aren’t much better.” Roxas frowns, glancing at his own skin, sooty and damp from Axel’s palms, clothes, sweat. After thinking for a second, he stretches them out over the floor and mumbles, “Water.” A light spray appears from the ether to rinse them clean.

Axel hums, head cocking. “Now do the spell for soap.”

Roxas makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat and then shakes the bag again emphatically. “Shut up, or I won’t feed you.”

It’s Axel’s turn to sound strangled, but then he pantomimes zipping his trap until Roxas nods, unloading a pair of bottles from a tote bag Aerith had helped him hand-sew in one of their classes, and handing them off to Axel to open, before lifting one of the heavenly smelling crescent wrapped rolls from the bag and brushing off the flaky, buttery crumbs. 

Axel’s brows rise as he twists the metal caps off the bottles and leans in to sniff them. “You didn’t manage to get…?”

Roxas twists his head in the negative, smile wistful. “Cream soda. But Elrena made it herself.” 

“Ah,” Axel nods seriously, as he pockets the bottle caps, “so it’s probably _poisoned_ cream soda.” 

“C’mon,” Roxas chides, with that blink and you miss it smile, nudging him with his shoulder, “Elrena’s so nice now.” 

“I know. Maybe I’m a hypocrite, but it creeps me out.” Axel smiles back, conspiratorial, gesturing with both hands despite the bottles. “Keep waiting for her to snap.” He watches Roxas steal the first bite of the jalapeño popper and his tongue fumbles, volume rising, “Babe, you might not want to take that big a bite of—”

Roxas meets Axel’s gaze in a steady, playful challenge, starts to chew, and then his face contorts. “Aw, fug! Ax’l—!” His hands start flailing, eyes beginning to water. “My mouff’s on fyre!” 

“Shit.” Axel’s brows furrow with concern, as he lifts his hand to Roxas’ mouth, though he can’t quite subdue his smirk. “You’ve never eaten a jalapeño before, have you, darlin’?”

Roxas spits the food into Axel’s outstretched palm without hesitation, and then Axel lifts one of the bottles to Roxas’ mouth, and tips it back. 

Roxas’ pink cheeks fade, the tension pinching his nose lessening as he chugs it down. Axel finds himself distracted by the muscles in Roxas’ neck working, swallowing, and the dribbles of frothy white foam spilling slowly out the sides of his mouth. As Roxas starts to cough, Axel scolds his mind for going somewhere indecent, and fumbles to help him right the bottle without dropping his own.

Axel sticks the unchewed half a jalapeño popper that had been in his boyfriend’s mouth into his own to free his ash-stained hand, and uses it to better support Roxas, who is leaning forward, cringing in disapproval through a minor coughing spasm. 

Which, Axel thinks, is a bit unfair, considering _Roxas_ is the one with liquid sugar dripping tantalizingly down his face. 

“Ugh.” Roxas rubs at the liquid dripping down his jawline, as Axel chews, and the spices set his own mouth pleasantly ablaze. “How can you _eat_ that?”

“If I was afraid of your germs, Roxas,” Axel leans in, tone dropping into an intimate hiss, before his tongue stretches to lap at a drip Roxas missed. “I wouldn’t have had my tongue down your throat two minutes ago.” 

Roxas shuts his eyes, works his jaw, and presses his fingertips to Axel’s cheek, hand twitching as if unsure whether to pull him closer or push him off, as the sting of spice from Axel’s tongue hits his skin. “I me’n’ the jalapeños,” he mumbles, too breathy to quite pull off indignant, neck arching just a bit as Axel’s tongue traces cream soda further down his jawline. “They’re definitely poisoned.” 

There’s a bang of metal on metal as Aeleus works across the room, and Axel snickers, kissing Roxas’ cheek one last time before pulling away. “They’re an acquired taste. And, speaking of poison, there’s definitely booze in this.” He lifts the remaining bottle of cream soda to his lips, and Roxas watches, head shaking. 

“I knew they’d be spicy. I like spicy, but,” Roxas winces, his own tongue sticking out, “blegh. They’re like if _Firaga_ was a pastry. Yeah,” he glances at the cream soda bottle, remembering the way Elrena had winked at him and told him to have fun when she handed them over, “I don’t know how she got away with it, but,” he tilts the bottle and watches the amber content slosh, “this has to be, like, half rum.” 

“You didn’t think we were the only ones opening dark corridors when we’re not supposed to, did you, Roxas? Where there’s a will—” Axel’s nose crinkles, laughing as Roxas takes another swig. “Whoa, you just chugged half a bottle. Slow down there, buddy.”

“Trying to get the taste out of my mouff…”

Roxas has downed the entire bottle of soda before Axel finally persuades him it’s not a form of manslaughter to feed him the other half of the first jalapeño popper. Axel chews with exaggerated relish, Roxas watching with a mix of awe, disgust, and apprehension. 

“So, you got stuck talking to Xemnas earlier, huh?” Axel asks around another bite.  
  
“Yeah.” Roxas brushes crumbs from the back of his hand and the collar of Axel’s tunic. “I think I accidentally agreed to Org family _brunch_ next week.” He pulls another pained face. “You have to help me get out of it. Isa will ask me if I’ve been _applying_ myself.” 

Axel chuckles. “You have been _applying_ yourself. Ansem said our science project showed ‘great promise.’ That’s scientist speak for ‘fucking awesome.’” He rubs Roxas’ lower back in attempt to ease his concerns. “And Xemnas gave you full marks for your book report comparing _The Lord of the Flies_ to current events in Neverland.”

“I know,” Roxas frowns and sets his bottle on the bench beside him with a clink, “but when Isa asks, I go brain-dead.” 

“He has that effect on people,” Axel jabs fondly. “But don’t forget, he’s taking a few classes too. Xemnas didn’t teach his employee of the month _everything.”  
_  
Roxas scowls, though it seems directed inward. “Talking about my education makes him so serious. He’s easier to talk to over frisbee or construction work or guitar lessons with Demy.” He shrugs. “I know he means well.” 

“Hm.” Axel glances to the blur of the fire in the hearth in thought, swishing his palm to bring the blazes down as the heat of the jalapeños spreads through his throat. He swallows. “I’ll see what I can do. We did _just_ have them over for dinner. Speaking of,” he fixes his eyes on Roxas again, “what the hell did you talk about? Xemnas just talked our ears off two days ago.”  
  
Roxas rolls his eyes. “You know Xemnas. _Everything._ ” He shifts his hand over the bottle at his side, murmurs again, and it starts to fill with water. “First, he talked about Isa and what a good job he’s doing with HR and Staffing for the Restoration Committee and managing our community service hours, which, by the way, we’re Thursday…” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I pissed Leon off at the market yesterday when I got the last avocado, so I hope you’re ready for some hard labor.”

Roxas gives an exaggerated sigh and tries to cuff Axel’s shoulder. Axel dodges, catching Roxas’ hand in his wrist, and leaning to press his lips to Roxas’ temple. 

“So, we talked about Isa, for, like, fifteen minutes straight,” Roxas continues, as if uninterrupted, twining their fingers together with one hand and sipping his rum and sugar flavored water with the other. 

“Well,” Axel considers evenly, “he and Isa _are_ smushing face.”

Water spurts from Roxas’ nose and it takes him a moment to collect himself. He knows Isa and Xemnas are definitely and officially together, but out in public, they seem convinced that anything more than wrapping their arms around each other or standing with their shoulders touching is reprehensible PDA. Xemnas had pecked Isa on the cheek during dinner and Roxas’ jaw had about dropped open. 

When Roxas has collected himself, he continues again, “Then I made the mistake of asking what he’s got planned for the next issue of _The Radiant Garden Gazette_.”  
  
“Oh, Roxas,” Axel cringes sympathetically, “you didn’t.”  
  
Roxas sets down his drink and begins ticking articles off on his fingers, “He’s doing a review of Elrena’s tavern, updates on Xigbar’s appeal, a feature with Jiminy about some of the therapy techniques he’s using with us former Org members, an ‘illuminating’ critique of Leon’s work on the street lamps, or lack thereof… Oh! And he wants us to help with the tavern food reviews as our ELA assignment for the week. ‘Dishing on the dishes,’ I think he called it. Anyway, he’ll text us the details.”

“Gees,” Axel whistles, “ _he_ didn’t spare any of the details.”

“I think he’s just excited.” Roxas shrugs. They can talk trash, but they both read Xemnas’ paper together the day it comes out and revel in the drama for weeks after. “We all know how much work he puts into it.” 

“He makes sure of that,” Axel bemoans, grin betraying his amusement. “He let you get a word in edgewise?”  
  
“Oh. Yeah.” Roxas winces, pushes back his bangs. He likes people, but making lengthy conversation is not his cup of tea, and Xemnas doesn’t accept one-word answers without a fight. 

“About?”

“He asked how we’re settling into the apartment and how our other classes are going. Then he asked if we’d heard about Aeleus and Dilan’s engagement. Then he asked if business has picked up, and if I like having Ven as my sponsor. _Then,”_ Roxas leans in, growing more animated, “he asked if it’s true that _your_ Sponsor of Light, Riku, thinks you and I should break up, and if _I_ really told him he should go fuck himse—” 

To Roxas’ disappointment, Axel cuts off his blood-thirsty grin with a swipe of his hand, “Whoa there, Rox, back it up. Aeleus and Dilan got _engaged?”_

“Oh.” Roxas blinks a couple times. “Yeah! He told me I should tell you about that, but then he said, never mind, you were probably the first to know, because something about a ring.” They pass a couple seconds in steady silence, each waiting for the other to offer some kind of explanation. “Honestly, he kind of lost me, but he sounded pretty excited, so…” Roxas shrugs, open handed, earnest, “I think it’s probably a good thing.” 

Axel mouths something wordlessly, his brows nearing his hairline, and then glances around the shop for Aeleus, who is no longer in it. 

Roxas makes an agitated sound, and Axel finds his voice. 

“The ring was—the ring was an engagement ring?”

“I mean,” Roxas tilts his head, wondering what he’s missing, “that’s what Xemnas called it. Why? What’s...” 

Axel starts fumbling to put down the bottle and paper bag in his hands, so Roxas scooches off of his lap, starts to tuck the lunch items into his tote, and watches his slightly frantic, but grinning boyfriend with a growing frown. “Are you... okay?”

 _“Aeleus?”_ Axel calls, leaning half his frame out the window until he spots the man, loading armfuls of enormous iron hammers into his cart with ease. At the commotion, Aeleus brushes off his palms and steps their way. “Aeleus?” Axel calls more emphatically, yelling and waving for the man a few yards off. “That ring I made for Dilan, that was your _engagement_ ring?” 

Axel continues repeating his question as Aeleus walks up. By the time he arrives, and Roxas has joined Axel in leaning most of his body out the window to observe, Axel is a little breathless. 

“I think,” Aeleus’ boots stop with a heavy thud, and his arms cross, contemplating them, “perhaps what you’re trying to say to me is ‘congratulations’?” 

“Yeah,” Axel pantomimes tossing confetti, flickering white sparks rising from his fingertips, and sweeps them away in quick succession. “I mean congratulations, obviously, but…”  
  
Aeleus offers a rare quirk of his mouth that’s as close to a smile as Axel has ever seen him get, and then nods. “Thank you, Lea.”  
  
Both Aeleus and Axel turn to Roxas, Aeleus’ expression blank and expectant, Axel with one brow quirked, as if he’s surprised Roxas hasn’t done something, though Roxas can’t think what. 

“Congratulations?” Roxas echoes carefully. “Xemnas says this is very big and exciting news.” 

“Er,” Aeleus’ eyes narrow, another glimmer of an almost-smile appearing, as his chin juts in a nod, “yes. Quite.” He waits another beat and when Roxas doesn’t continue, glances to Axel and back. “Thank you, Master Roxas.”

Axel frowns, his jade eyes shifting, raking over Roxas’ face. Unsure what to think, he swiftly tucks his boyfriend under his arm, ruffling his hair to stifle his objections as he turns back to Aeleus, “He’s so surprised he doesn’t know what to say! He’s just found out. We’re over the moon for you both. Really.”

With a huff, Roxas pushes his way out from Axel’s solid grip and hoists himself up to sit on the window frame and glare at him. 

Axel is oblivious, his frantic smile spreading into something more mocking. “So, have you lovebirds started making plans yet? Dates, colors, locales, flowers… bachelor parties?” Axel winks, and Roxas’ intestines attempt to turn themselves inside out.

Aeleus’ frown starts to slip into more of a glower, and Axel leans back, hands up in self-defense, expression softening. “Kidding… I’m kidding. You do you. No rush, obviously. It’s just been a decade since I’ve seen a real Radiant Garden wedding… I mean. Fuck.” He glances up to the faint puffs of clouds, and crosses his ankles, lost in a memory. “Gods,” he mutters, shaking it off, and catching sight of Roxas, before turning back to the groom-to-be. “And Roxas, here, he’s never seen one… I mean, I can’t believe you didn’t tell us! Look at Roxas, he’s speechless.” Axel gestures to him.

“Uh… yeah.” Roxas crosses his arms, nose wrinkling like he can still taste the jalapeño in the corners of his mouth. “I’m speechless.” 

Aeleus offers his tiny, wry smile again. “I imagine Dilan thought you might read between the lines when he made such a specific request.”  
  
Axel nods, arms crossing as he considers this. “I did think it was odd that he wanted to start accessorizing at his age…”  
  
Axel ignores Aeleus’ displeased harrumph, and continues, “This does make more sense. I just wish he had told me.” Axel gestures toward Aeleus’ left hand, and he lifts his trunk-like arm to reveal a simple gold band on one of his beefy digits with a single twist in the metal. “I could have made something with, ya know, a little more pizzazz.” Axel’s fingertips release another round of sparks.  
  
Aeleus nods, thoughtful as well, considering Axel’s erratic, spiked hair and the smudge on his cheek like his old tattoo, and recalling a distant memory of a child sitting in the sunny town square of Radiant Garden painting grinning flames on his frisbees and flicking paint at his friends when they offered critique. “Perhaps ‘pizzazz’ was what he was trying to avoid? I rather appreciate it as is.”  
  
Axel, who is in the process of hoisting himself up to sit in the window frame beside Roxas finds his foot slipping as he tries to process these words, and he sits harder than he means to, landing on his ass with a thud. “Ah…” Axel blinks as the cloud of ash around him fades off, and frowns at the waiting Aeleus, who’s chuckling at his missteps, a strange, deep, melodic sound. 

“Maybe,” Axel offers generously. “Whatever floats your boat, I guess.” He rotates his wrist, making sure his hard landing didn’t do any real damage. “Oh!” he glances up abruptly, as Aeleus’ laughter tapers off. “Uh, but congratulations, all the same!” Again, he spares Roxas a side glance, but he remains silent, brow furrowed, watching them carefully.   
  
“Thank you…” Aeleus nods, sparing Roxas a curious look as well, before glancing over his shoulder to the cart he was loading to take to the castle. “Although, I’d rather you both had heard it from _us_ than from Xemnas… Perhaps I ought to go and tell some of the others… before the news hits publication, so to speak.” He motions back the way he had come and takes a step back toward the road. 

“Yeah, of course, man. Leave your cart here, we’ll take care of it. This is a big deal! I’m sure the scientists will understand if the equipment’s a day late.” Axel nods enthusiastically until his neck feels a little sore. 

Aeleus nods once in reply and then bids them a final farewell and starts off in the direction of the central town square. As he steps off, Axel calling well wishes to his back, he swears he sees the man’s lips stretch into a full, genuine, toothy smile, and in the distance, he thinks he hears the large man begin to whistle a jaunty tune.

Roxas, silent and still, watches from beside him, the breeze pulling at his bangs, but Roxas does not smile. 


	3. Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changed the title on you guys 😅

After Aeleus has walked off, Axel leans his back against the rough edge of the window frame and pulls his knees to his chest. “Damn,” he mutters, ruffling his hair and exhaling slowly. He watches Aeleus’ hulking form disappear around the bend before turning back to face Roxas. “How did I not see this coming?” One of his feet starts to tap out a slow, thoughtful rhythm. “I mean, everyone knows they’re _together,_ and they have been _forever_ and…” Axel shakes his head and meets Roxas’ eyes sportingly. Roxas has always been perceptive. “I don’t know, Roxas. Did _you_ see this coming?”

“Huh?” It takes Roxas a moment to stop staring after Aeleus and shake his head. “No…” 

Axel tries to find this comforting but can’t seem to. Resisting the urge to simply scoop the guy up, back into his lap, he stretches one leg out to prod Roxas’ thigh with the toe of his boot. “You’re awfully quiet there, sunshine. What’s up?” 

He frowns when Roxas doesn’t immediately whack him or touch him or even reply. Pangs of pain and worry prod at the insides of Axel’s chest like sharp sticks.

He sees a quick flash of Roxas’ face, in his early Organization days, after a mission with Lexaeus. A fresh Nobody, his skin had still been milk pale from lack of sun, but across one side, it had blossomed blue and violet and pink like spilled water colors. _And that had been_ after _whatever healing spells and potions Rox had managed on his own._ When Axel had seen, for just a second, he had had to suppress the very real urge to vomit, and had spent the rest of the evening convincing himself that he hadn’t—couldn’t have. 

“I remember,” Axel begins gentle, tentative, “back, before. Lexaeus would push you pretty hard—too hard… Said he was teaching you your limits, breaking you in.” 

Axel’s eyes flash, green venom, his knuckles blazing up. For a moment Roxas sees the ghost of the man who returned from Castle Oblivion utterly alone, and deluded himself into thinking Roxas didn’t know in the back of his mind what that meant. 

Axel has to take a breath before the flames fizzle out into faint tufts of smoke. “And now _Aeleus,_ he’s, ya know…” His head tilts, and he gestures vaguely, pulling an exaggerated smile. “And maybe you don’t want him to be.”  
  
Roxas goes still. He can still feel the force of the sudden impact in his face, his chest, his back. See the world crash into empty black in an instant of unadulterated pain. _“No.”_ His head shakes firmly. Axel winces, pulling his leg back to his half of the sill, and Roxas takes a breath and shrugs, a big helpless thing. “No,” he repeats more evenly. “Aeleus is a good man. He’s apologized to me a hundred times over. He might be the only one who has. I want him to be—I want _everyone_ to be…” he stares downward at his boots, glossy where they aren’t spattered with dried mud, “happy.” Roxas doesn’t even pretend to smile. 

“You might _want_ that,” Axel reaches out to run his fingertips down Roxas’ arm, “but we can’t help how we feel, Roxas.” Axel turns his gaze skyward. He thinks it’s easier to confess to the cloudless ice blue than to watch Roxas’ jaw twitch, or his eyes fill with scorn or shame or pity. “Sometimes, when I run into Xemnas, my skin crawls. He could be weeding begonias in his own yard or buying carrots and celery at the market to make soup. It doesn’t matter. I know, in my head that he’s a different person now, and I know in my heart how much he loves Isa, but it’s like I can feel his ethereal blade singing my throat, or I can see him looking down his nose at us on that high white throne, threatening to snuff out your life with that smug smile and fuck-all remorse, and I just…” 

Axel shuts his eyes for a second to try and swipe the dark tendrils of memory away with a mental keyblade slash, but more rapidly replace them. “I’m one to talk. Ienzo’s changed so much. Such a sweetheart to everyone, so happy all the time, so eager to help and be part of the team... Least, that’s what I’ve heard. He won’t spend five seconds with me if there’s no one else around. Not that I blame him, after what I _did_ to him…” One of Axel’s hands shades his eyes for a moment, and not from the sun. 

Roxas’ hand covers Axel’s other and squeezes. He knows Axel’s sins by now, but he’s also seen the way they haunt him. He doesn’t eat for hours after seeing Ienzo. There are days he wakes up in the night covered in sweat and twisted in sheets with bits of salt water in the corners of his eyes and doesn’t nod off again without Roxas tucked too hard against his chest until their heartbeats fall into sync. “You’re not that guy anymore,” Roxas tells him, softly but firmly, eyes urgent. 

Axel rubs at the back of his neck. “I’m trying not to be…”

“I think…” Roxas takes a slow breath, exhales, feeling the sun against his cheekbones and the back of their intertwined hands and thinking about how every night’s inky depths eventually, inevitably fade away to daylight. He thinks about how beautiful it is when they do. “I think sometimes that’s all we can do.” 

They had been trying to avoid talking about this. They had each privately thought that maybe they were supposed to be past feeling like this about the others, and that maybe they never really would be. 

“Anyway, you can talk to me.” Axel rests his free hand around Roxas’ elbow, as Roxas turns to him, eyes hooded, frown jagged. “Whatever’s eating ya. I’m here.” 

Roxas tries not to be distracted by this vulnerability, annoyed that Axel thinks he knows what this is about and that it doesn’t even occur to him what he’s done wrong.

“It has nothing to do with that.”

“C’mon, Roxas… You happy?” Axel suggests, unconvinced, massaging Roxas’ skin with his thumb. “Pissed? Surprised? Scared? Nervous? … _Jealous?”_

Roxas’ twists his arm away at the condescending tone of the last comment, his voice rougher around the edges than usual, so that Axel feels a little like he’s been dragged down a road paved with small, sharp rocks, when Roxas counters, “About _what?”_

Axel’s cheekbones sting like they’ve been slapped. His hands drop back down into his lap. “Help me understand, Roxas. You don’t want to talk about _their_ engagement?” He forces his tone to soften, but there’s still an edge, the kind Roxas wouldn’t want to run his hand along. “Or you don’t want to talk about engagement in general _with me?”_

“No,” Roxas snaps quickly, thrown by Axel sounding _so_ hurt, _so_ quickly. He hadn’t wanted that. He jerks back around to meet Axel’s eyes, his own wide with concern, and is immediately pissed at himself for giving in to the urge to look back so soon as his fury ebbs, calmed by their familiar, transfixing depth. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m trying to understand why this is such a big deal.” His arms cross, and he turns his head sharply, back out to the street, out to the shattered glass store front across the street with its crumbling stone facade. He just wants honesty. “ _You’re_ the one who hasn’t been talking about it.” 

“Me?” Axel’s fingers land over his heart, affronted. “I’m trying to talk to you about it _right now_ and you’re being weird about it.” Axel swings one leg out the window, and glances back out to Aeleus’ abandoned cart. His heart clenches like his body’s trying to get a better grip on the damn, wild thing. This certainly isn’t how he’d imagined any version of this conversation going. “You really hurt Aeleus’ feelings just now, you know that?” Axel kicks the back of his heel against the brick beneath it, raising a cloud of ash. 

Roxas tilts his head and glances back again in spite of himself. “How could you tell?” 

“Well,” caught off-guard, Axel gestures vaguely, pauses, and then drops his hands in defeat, “ _mine_ would have been hurt, anyway.” His eyes narrow, lips a hard line. “This is important to him.” 

“Oh, well, forgive me,” Roxas jumps down from the ledge, tossing up his hands. “If it’s so fucking _important_ to everyone...” 

_“Roxas…”_ Axel jumps down after him as he whirls away, catching him by the shoulders, entirely thrown by the way his boyfriend’s entire strong, well-trained body has begun to quiver like a man soaked to the bone being torn at by a frost-licked wind. 

Axel’s mind goes white and numb, his hand falling back. He feels like a Nobody again in that moment, like he’s had part of his chest carved out. 

_Does the idea of spending our lives together_ scare _him?_

Roxas had never given Axel that impression before. Out of everything in his new life, spending it with Roxas is the thing he’s always been most certain of. Roxas had agreed to forever over and over again without hesitation. 

_But why else would he brush off the subject of engagement again and again? Why else would he be shaking? Roxas isn’t one to avoid hard conversations or beat around the bush. Never has been._ In the Organization, he’d regularly prodded Axel with questions about friendship, love, and heartache, like those weren’t the kind of topics any of their coworkers would have hung them out to dry for whispering about.

 _So, why…? Why…? Unless…_ Roxas’ words replay in his head. 

_Something about a ring._

_Xemnas says this is very big and exciting news._

_About_ what?

_I’m trying to understand._

You’re _the one who hasn’t been talking about it._

 _If it’s so fucking_ important… 

“Oh,” Axel mumbles. “ _Oh.”_

Axel draws closer, pulling Roxas backward against his chest and wrapping him solidly in his arms. He begins pressing featherlight kisses to his face and hair as the guy squirms against him and tries to tug himself out without hurting Axel. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Roxas demands as he pries, and Axel squeezes tighter. Roxas is more than a little pissed now. It’s not like Axel not to take his feelings seriously. 

“Roxas…” Axel murmurs into his ear, “my sexy, bad ass, darling, sunshine, sweetheart, deadly, gorgeous, honey bunny bear… I love you, and I don’t want to embarrass you _ever,_ but… Do you… not know… what an engagement _is?”_

Roxas gives one final half-hearted shove at the arm securing his waist, and then he sighs and leans limply into it. He waits a few beats before he finally mutters, _“No…”_

“How about a wedding?” Axel kisses his ear. “A marriage?” Kisses his cheek. “A husband?” Kisses his throat.

Roxas tries to fight the warm fuzzies his body gives him in reaction and nudges at Axel’s face with his shoulder, tilting his head to try to meet Axel’s eyes, and admitting begrudgingly, “I’ve never heard of any of that shit.” He finally manages as close to a scowl as he can get while being pummeled with affection. “And somebody never thought it was _important_ enough to tell me.” 

Axel loosens his grip, and Roxas turns to peer up at him, glower less sharp, but still present. 

“You know…” Axel’s brows rise, fingers tapping against Roxas’ shoulder. “You used to just _ask_ me about this ‘shit.’ You didn’t used to get all embarrassed about it.” 

Roxas scoffs, his hair flopping adorably. “I’m not embarrassed, Axel.” He scooches an emphatic step back, but not far enough to break from the comforting weight of Axel’s hands on his shoulders. “I thought we agreed:” he lifts a finger accusingly, taps a beat against Axel’s chest, “no more secrets.” His palm flattens and he sees Axel’s brows furrow and his frown stretch strangely in pity or sorrow or one of the other emotions Roxas least likes to see him wearing. Axel’s heart beats faster against Roxas’ palm, and he snatches it back, immediately regretting it, as Axel’s pained expression etches deeper into his face. 

“Well, this engagement shit seems pretty damn important.” Roxas turns away only to peek back again, voice losing its conviction, “Unless it’s… Is it not that important?”

It wouldn’t be the first time Roxas has been told to pretend to be excited about something that didn’t seem like it should be that big a deal. _Terra getting named a Keyblade Master. Himself moving into an apartment with Axel. Demy putting his sitar down long enough to get a job._

“No,” Axel rubs at his neck, blowing a strand of sweat damp hair from his face, and looking a little ruffled and helpless, despite the way his chiseled biceps flex. He sounds weary, “I mean, it’s pretty damn important, Roxas.” 

Roxas words come quiet and slow, “Then, why the fuck do I feel like an idiot right now, Axel?” Roxas’ hands snatch at Axel’s shirt. The thin material is sweaty and dirty, and he doesn’t mean to do it, but he has to. 

“It’s just,” Axel laughs, though his earlier amusement has faded. His hands drop, callused, ash darkened palms spreading open, “I just—I thought you knew.”  
  
It’s not the poetic, climactic explanation Roxas was hoping for, yet it diffuses his fury in a single optimistic instant. His lip juts out, eyes narrowing like he’s staring into something far too bright. “Seriously?”  
  
Axel’s eyes seem to Roxas more guileless than he’s ever seen them. Leaf green and sharp and earnest, his usually quick words dragging into longer, more desperate things. “Honest to the gods. Roxas. I thought you knew. Okay?”

Roxas’ grip loosens, Axel’s shirt slipping through his fingers. “Really?”  
  
Roxas looks so fucking hopeful, Axel’s heart feels weightless, like it might float up his chest and out his throat. 

“Yes.” He sweeps Roxas into his arms again, and Roxas embraces Axel’s narrow waist with equal force. “Yes, baby.” He kisses Roxas’ right cheek and then his left, never more relieved to hear his breathless giggle. “Yes. Yes.”

“Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay,” Roxas’ pleas turn into more of a grumbly growl with each syllable and Axel grins all the brighter and kisses him more frantically wherever he can reach, as Roxas pushes teasingly at his chest and squirms, “get off, get _off,_ you’re smothering me.”

Axel raises both hands in surrender, but leans in, grin taunting, “I thought you liked it when I smother you.” 

Roxas leans up on his toes and kisses the tip of Axel’s nose below his smatter of freckles. Roxas smiles back, a slanted, self-satisfied little thing. “I might.” 

Axel lets himself exhale, finally feeling forgiven for his unintentional slight, though the real danger lurking ahead sends pin pricks to the back of his neck and wrists. 

When Roxas is back on his heels they watch each other for a long moment. The breeze tosses Axel’s red mane and he shifts a few strands, sunlit gold, out of his eyes. The air smells like ash and distant spring flower petals. 

“So…” Axel hums, hands slipping into his pockets. 

Roxas crosses his arms. Axel raises a brow. Roxas frowns, a dry irritated sound forming in the back of his throat.

Axel’s smile turns sheepish. “You want me to tell you what engagement is now, huh?” 

Roxas nods. 

“Not exactly something I was planning to wing,” Axel mutters to himself, head cocking to the side, “but alright…” He turns on his heel toward the street, and takes a step. “Why the fuck not?” He turns again to catch Roxas’ curious eyes trailing him, and jerks his thumb toward the supplies Aeleus had abandoned. “Alright. Let’s, uh, put the cart away, and then I’ll take you somewhere nice and tell you anything you wanna know.” 

Roxas nods again, and starts to follow him down the road, but stops, catching at Axel’s sleeve, his wrist. “Wait. Wait.” Something has occurred to him, sudden, pressing, insistent, and he winces, realizing he may have just let his temper flare up incredibly irrationally. “I just have one question.” 

Axel looks hesitant, his hand grasping at thin air and tightening into a fist. “Okay, yeah, sure.” His eyes dart down to meet Roxas’, expression uncertain but open. “Fire away.” 

“Engagement.” Roxas’ hand slides up Axel’s wrist. He watches his palm pressing Axel’s palm, their callused fingers aligning, sliding at his black and white rings. He can’t help but think of a few other things Axel had taken some convincing to tell him about. Being best friends. Falling in love. His past. Kissing, snuggling, spooning, and then, most recently… 

Roxas glances up. “It’s _not_ … I mean… Is it, ya know, like…” Roxas’ lip curls up. His voice is always husky, but this is one of those times he makes Axel really _notice_ it. “...a sex thing?” 

“What?” Axel snorts, eyes going skyward, a silent plea for divine intervention. He loves Roxas for his bluntness, but… “Fuck.” Axel’s gaze shifts to meet Roxas’ eyes and ensure he’s not been screwing with him this entire time, but Roxas just looks intently curious and maybe a touch chastised. “No.”

Roxas’ blond brows arch. “No?” he echoes.

“Roxas.” Axel can no longer hold back his laughter. _“No._ Cross my heart.” He draws a finger in an ‘X’ across Roxas’ chest. “No. Why would you even ask me that?”  
  
Roxas laughs himself, a light puff and then shrugs and starts walking toward the supply cart. “Usually, when I don’t know what something is, and someone laughs and tells me to ask _you,_ it’s a sex thing.”

Axel chokes, coughs, takes a long moment to process this before he grins and steps up to join Roxas, arm wrapping his shoulders, squeezing them. “Not sure what else there is to teach you there, pal.” Laughter stains his voice, lines crinkling around intent eyes. “I think we’ve been pretty thorough.” 

Roxas smiles a soft, genuine Roxas smile, catching the hand on his shoulder in his, tugging him toward the supply cart. His entire chest feels warm as Agrabah sand. His imagination starts to stray. “You’ll think of something.” 

Axel snorts and buries a kiss in the golden tufts of Roxas’ hair. “Probably.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3 Comments welcome <3


End file.
